Sand and Salt (A Supernatural One-Shot)
by macandreads
Summary: Sam and Dean have never seen the ocean. Now, during a week off from hunting, they decide to vacation on the coast.
1. Quote

"We're due for a win, okay? Overdue. I'll tell you another thing, if this actually does work, we're gonna take some time off."

"What, like a vacation?"

"Mm-hmmm. And I'm not talking just like a weekend in Vegas or sitting in some crap motel watching pay-per-porn. No, I'm talking about a beach. Drinking cervezas, go for a swim, mingle with the local wildlife. When was the last time either of us was on a beach?"

"Never."

"Sand between our toes, Sammy. Sand between our toes." 

_(Season 10 Episode 18)_


	2. Sand and Salt

Dean Winchester rested his arms on the steering wheel of his 1967 Chevrolet Impala as he felt the coastal breeze tickle his cheeks from the open window. His brother, Sam, glanced at him from the passenger seat with a look of peace.

"So, I was thinking...park this Baby and head straight for the water. You know, just to let her know what she's been missing."

Sam gave a small chuckle. "Sounds great."

Dean turned right onto a small road. He squinted, looking at the horizon, which was peeking from between the trees.

"Check it out, Sammy."

Sam leaned forward, seeing the bright blue ocean. He exhaled with a wide smile.

Dean continued to drive until he reached the many hotels lining the coast. He parked the car in the first spot he could find.

"Good thing about the ocean...it's got plenty of salt," said Dean. "Don't have to worry about the creepy-crawlies here."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, that's true." They both climbed out of the Impala and headed to the shore. Their hearts raced as they saw the sun reflecting off of the crystal waters. It was much more beautiful than they'd imagined.

They rushed through the gate, through a hotel's pool area, out another gate, and finally down the wooden steps to the sand. Dean tripped the instant his feet, now bare, sunk into it.

Sam laughed and placed his toes in the sand much more carefully. Dean smirked, then shoved his brother onto the ground. Sand was thrown into the air by his feet as he fell face-first. He was covered in it once he finally managed to look back up at Dean, who was now the one laughing. Sam snatched Dean's ankle, an Dean collapsed beside him.

They both pulled themselves up to their knees.

"Haven't even gotten two feet and we're already acting like teenage girls," Sam said.

"Oh, I embrace it," said Dean, looking up into the clear blue sky. He brought himself to his feet and began sprinting for the waves. Sam hurried behind him, quickly catching up with his longer legs. And then he passed Dean. Dean threw up his hands. "Aw, c'mon! That's not fair!"

They pulled off their shirts and threw them into the sand before splashing into the ocean.

The water was cool against their bare legs. This was one of the rare times that someone would see Sam and Dean wearing shorts.

As they waded farther and farther into the deep, waves crashed and foamed around them. One of them broke right as it reached the two brothers, and Dean lost his footing, being dragged under. He eventually resurfaced with coughs.

"Son of a bitch, that tastes awful!"

Sam laughed, still standing tall among the waves.

"Shut up, Goliath," Dean muttered, shaking his head to get water out of his ears.

Sam threw up his hands.

They stayed in the water for an hour, and then they decided to finally check in to their hotel room. Their luggage (other than the arsenal in the trunk) consisted of only a toothbrush, a few shirts, a couple of pairs of jeans, two pairs of swim trunks-Dean bought them during his giddy excitement as they'd planned for the trip-, and a stack of underwear each. But that was okay. They didn't need materialistic items to be happy; all they needed was each other, which was enough.

~( )~

Sam and Dean admired the hotel. First of all, it was a _hotel_ , and not a motel. It was fancy, with fifteen floors. The elevator was a bit awkward, since a shirtless 400-pound man-who was three shades redder than they thought was humanely possible-had crammed himself in the corner that they were standing in. And he needed deodorant.

Dean wrinkled his nose, holding back a cough. Sam's expression wasn't much different, though he was doing a slightly better job at hiding it.

As the elevator continued to ascend, Dean had had enough.

"Okay, Tomato-Chubs. Can you scoot over a little?"

The man turned to face Dean. His brow furrowed, but he took two steps back. Dean nodded, giving him a strained smile.

The elevator eased to a halt. _Ding._ The three men looked at the floor number that was listed above the door in digital red numbers. _11._

"Thank God," Dean mumbled. The door slid open, and he and Sam exited the elevator. He looked back at the man they'd left behind, who was casually scratching his ass. Sam subconsciously shot him a disturbed look.

The two brothers shuffled down the hallway until they found the door marked _1127._

"Heh heh heh, this is us baby," Dean chortled. Sam smirked.

Dean inserted the keycard, but nothing happened.

"Dean, it's upside down," Sam pointed out.

"Don't tell me how to live my life," replied Dean teasingly, flipping the key and trying again. The light blinked, and he opened the door. "Yahtzee!"

They entered the hotel room and closed the door behind them.

Dean observed their room. "Wa-ho! We have a kitchen. And a frickin' couch. A _real_ couch."

"Nice."

"I gotta say, this place ain't bad." Dean threw himself onto the couch, not even making it as far as the bedroom area.

How did they afford this? Take a guess. Hustling pool, credit card scams, you name it. The same old stuff, but they started stashing a little to the side each time.

"Saving money, Sammy. The world doesn't lie about that one. You reap the rewards." He propped his feet up on the arm of the couch, and he folded his arms behind his head with a sigh of satisfaction.

Sam headed into the bedroom, setting his duffel bag on the first bed. His eyes landed on the curtains at the end of the room.

Dean, realizing what Sam was about to do, rolled off of the couch and onto his feet to join his brother.

Sam reached to pull back the curtains.

"Hey hey hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Dean said, grabbing Sam's wrist.

"I'm opening the curtains...?" Sam was confused.

"I have to do it."

"What? Why?"

Dean straightened his back, standing as tall and proud as he could manage, still coming up short against Sam's height. "Because I'm older, that's why." He yanked the curtains open, and then slid the glass door to the right. "Damn." He walked out onto their balcony.

Sam approached him. They both rested their hands on the railing as they admired the sight before them.

The sun was setting. It was a deep red, and vibrant colors streaked the sky around it. A couple of seagulls glided in front of the sun, landing on the shore and pecking at something in the sand.

The waves rode up the shore before being called back to the sea. The number of tourists on the beach had begun to thin out as they returned to their hotels.

A soft breeze picked up, tickling their cheeks and causing Sam's hair to brush his neck as it followed the movement of the air.

"I need a beer," Dean said.

~( )~

Sam and Dean found a bar at the base of their hotel, but the drinks were much more tropical than your average bar. They had fancy cocktails: piña coladas, strawberry daiquiris, and several more that were difficult to pronounce. Dean changed his mind about wanting a beer; his desire was now for something much more beach-y.

Sam and Dean each sat on a stool and rested their arms on the bar table. Dean looked up at the bartender, getting a small glimpse of his face as he walked away to fetch something.

"Hey, Jon Bon Jovi!" Dean called after him. The man stopped and turned around, coming to serve his new customers. He did indeed resemble the singer. "I'll take a piña colada, and he wants apple juice. With a rainbow straw." Dean pointed his thumb at Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes. "No, I do _not_ want apple juice. I'll try a mojito."

The bartender nodded, stepping away to retrieve their drinks.

Sam and Dean accepted theirs with gratitude.

"Dude, they gave us frickin' umbrellas," Dean said excitedly, pulling his umbrella out of the glass, holding it up to Sam. "Look at this mother. It's adorable."

Sam raised an eyebrow as the corner of his lip came upward. He chuckled, then took a sip of his own drink.

Time passed. Sam stopped drinking after two, but Dean kept throwing them down, and he was definitely drunk.

Dean threw up a finger for another, but Sam grabbed his hand and set it back on the table, shaking his head at the bartender.

"He's done," Sam said. He faced his disappointed brother. "How many have you had?"

"Four...no five? I don't know. Maybe six." Dean grinned.

"Yeah, you're definitely done."

Sam ushered Dean through the hallways and to the elevator. Sam pressed _11_ , and Dean watched drowsily as the button lit up. Dean pressed _10_ , and then the _14_.

"Hey!" Sam grabbed Dean's wrist. "Don't do that."

"I can do what I want."

"No," Sam said. "Not unless you _want_ to be in here all night."

Dean frowned, then leaned against the wall of the elevator. When it lurched slightly as it stopped at floor _10_ , Dean jumped. "We're falling!"

"Dean, we're _fine_." Sam pressed the _door close_ button as the door opened. The elevator continued to ascend, until it reached floor _11_. "Okay, come on." He escorted Dean to their room door.

A woman with long blonde hair and a body that had obviously been surgically modified was walking down the hallway in the opposite direction. She winked at Dean, brushing him as she passed.

Dean turned around, stopping and staring at her until she turned right at the end of the hallway. Sam cleared his throat and gave his arm a tug.

"Dean."

Dean frowned again. Sam unlocked their room door and pushed Dean inside. He practically threw his brother onto the second bed.

Dean licked his lips and reached into his pocket, pulling out the mini umbrella and sticking it in the fern on their shared nightstand. He began to hum a Bon Jovi song.

Sam entered the bathroom and brushed his teeth before snuggling under the covers in his own bed. Dean had already fallen asleep. Sam turned off the lamp.

~( )~

Sam awoke the next morning to the awful wretching of Dean's hangover. He heard the toilet flush as he climbed out of bed.

"Ugh," Dean moaned from the bathroom. He coughed.

Sam found a water bottle and brought it to Dean.

Dean was kneeling in front of the toilet, his elbows resting on the porcelain. He graciously accepted the bottle.

"Thanks, man." Dean wiped his mouth and rolled on his knees until he was sitting on his butt. He unscrewed the cap and began to drink the water. "Anything I don't remember that I should know?"

"Dude, you tried to draw a picture with the _elevator buttons_ ," Sam said.

"I did?"

"Yeeaahh..." Sam nodded, showing his teeth with an exhale.

"The hell was in those things?" Dean pulled himself to his feet and picked up a pill bottle. He poured a couple of pills into his palm and swallowed them dry.

"Pineapple juice, white rum, and coconut cream."

"What'd you do, Google it before you came in here?"

"No..."

"Okay, Einstein." Dean exited the bathroom and turned on the television. Sam started to shave.

As Dean watched the news, he saw commercials advertising things to do at the beach. He smirked, coming up with an idea.

~( )~

After a morning of enjoying the waves at the ocean sandbar, Sam and Dean returned to their hotel room to order a pizza.

Once it arrived, Dean told Sam that he wanted to go somewhere after they finished eating.

"Go where?" Sam asked.

"You'll see," replied Dean.

"Seriously? We're playing _that_ game?"

"What's wrong with me keeping it a secret?"

"Everything."

"Well, then _good_."

Sam rolled his eyes, but he let it go.

Once they'd finished eating, Sam and Dean made their way to the parking deck, where Dean had moved the Impala to. He didn't want to have to pay for parking at his initial spot.

Dean turned the key in the ignition and began driving to the address he'd seen on TV. He turned up the radio volume when he heard a Van Halen song playing.

Sam shook his head, humored at Dean mouthing the words to _Panama._

They were on the road for fifteen minutes, until Dean finally turned into a parking lot. Sam ducked to peek at the building in front of them, reading the sign through the windshield.

"Go-karts? Seriously?"

"Hell yes," Dean said with a wide smile.

The two of them stepped out of the car and walked up to the entrance. Dean opened the door and practically skipped inside.

Dean purchased their wristbands, which they taped around their left wrists.

Sam followed Dean to the closest outdoor track. They waited in line patiently, watching the karts race by.

"Awesome," said Dean.

When it was their turn, Dean picked a red kart, leaving Sam with the last remaining one, which was hot pink.

"Seriously?" Sam said.

Dean only laughed.

Sam sighed and strapped himself in the kart. A voice echoed through the speakers explaining the rules, though it was practically impossible to understand, since it was so loud and muffled, so no one ever listened to them. Basically, you just don't be an idiot, and you're good.

The countdown began. When it reached zero, everyone's right foot slammed against the gas pedal.

Sam was a few cars behind Dean, but he could still hear his brother's hoots and hollers above the rumbles of the engines. They rounded a curve, and then they were in a tunnel going below another part of the track. Lights were posted on the walls every few feet.

Sunlight returned in its full capacity as the tunnel was now behind them. They rounded a couple more curves and drove up a ramp that led to a bridge that crossed over the tunnel.

They'd reached the outermost part of the track. It encircled the rest of it, leading under the overhang where the karts parked when not in use. The racers zoomed past it, completing their first lap.

Sam maneuvered his kart to the inside of each curve to ensure that he was driving through them slightly faster than everyone else. After a lap of this, he'd reached Dean.

Sam smirked as he began to pass his brother, saluting him before overtaking him inside the tunnel.

"Son of a bitch!" he heard Dean shout from behind him.

The gate was closing, which meant that it was their last lap. When they reached the overhang, they parked their karts and exited the track.

"So the princess had some speed in her after all," Dean commented. Sam jabbed his elbow into Dean's side. "Yow!"

"Or maybe Grandpa over here needs to work on his driving."

"I see how it is," Dean said. "It's on."

They spent the rest of the afternoon fighting over the frontmost karts and trying hard to beat the other. Dean finally caught on to Sam's strategy, which leveled the playing field. They kept score, and by the time they were tired of racing each other, Sam had one extra win over Dean.

"I guess the princess wins," announced Sam. "She beat the grandpa."

"Shut up," said Dean. "If that bitch hadn't driven straight into me last race, I would have beat you."

"Awww..." Sam stuck out his bottom lip, mocking Dean.

"Eh, whatever. I'll get you in laser tag tonight."

"Laser tag?"

"Yeah. We're gonna do all this cool stuff that kids do these days."

"Okay. Sam picked up a pamphlet before they reached the parking lot. He flipped through it as they walked. He frowned thoughtfully.

After dinner, Dean drove them to a massive arcade with an adjacent laser tag arena. Even though Sam tried to tell him that it was dark in the arena despite the time of day, Dean insisted that they played late at night to get a better feel of the environment.

As they strapped on their vests and activated their phasers, Dean threw up a Vulcan salute.

Sam rolled his eyes, amused.

The arena had two floors, and Sam and Dean intentionally put themselves on opposite teams: Sam was green, and Dean was blue. As they sized up their teammates, Sam frowned, realizing that he was the only person on his team over four feet tall. All of the adults had joined Dean's team.

Dean smirked. "I was gonna call that 'Team Sasquatch', but the term isn't accurate anymore. Unless you want to be team captain, and we can ironically name it after you." Sam was slightly confused at what Dean was trying to say, but he just shrugged and bent over to whisper in the ear of the child closest to him.

The child grinned widely, nodding. She whispered into another ear, and soon Sam's message had spread to every child on his team.

"What'cha doing, Sammy? Playing telephone?"

Sam smiled. "Something like it."

Then the game began. Dean's team spread out to find hiding spots, but Sam's team followed him in unison. Sam was following Dean, who was paying no attention to what was going on behind him.

Dean took a right behind a barrier, finding himself at a dead end. He turned around to head back the other direction, only to find himself cornered by twenty children and a Sasquatch.

"Son of a-"

All at once, lasers were fired at Dean. His vest vibrated repeatedly as loud giggling echoed through that corner of the arena.

"Okay, okay! Let me out!" He pointed his phaser at the children, but he couldn't fire any lasers, since it had deactivated from being attacked.

"Okay, guys, let's get the others," Sam told his team. The children all dispersed, still giggling. Sam remained, his teeth shining under the blacklight as he smiled maliciously at his brother. "Want to make fun of my team again? Most of them are still in earshot if you'd like a Round 2."

"Of course the kids listen to you. You're all big and-" Dean stopped.

"Big and what?"

"Never mind." Dean walked away as his vest finally recharged.

Sam fired several lasers at Dean, causing his vest to vibrate and deactivate once more.

"Screw you," Dean muttered. He turned left, and Sam was alone, laughing.

After a moment, Sam found a ramp leading to the second floor, and he spent the rest of the game firing lasers at the rest of Dean's team.

Eventually, the loudspeakers boomed, announcing that the game was over. "Winner: Green Team, with 37,620, versus the Blue Team, with 19,027.

Sam looked down at his phaser, with his name and personal score listed. _Thanos - 49,844._ He was ranked the first on his team and in the entire game.

Once they exited the arena, he found Dean standing in front of the scoreboard. He found his name in third place: _Koopa Troopa - 42,498._

"Koopa Troopa, huh? Maybe you should go hide in your shell," Sam teased.

"Shut up."

The children went home, but Sam and Dean played two more games, and Sam was victorious both times, with at least two thousand points higher than Dean each time.

"Son of a bitch! How are you doing this?" Dean exclaimed. Sam shrugged. Dean stomped out of the arena, finding a foosball table. "Sammy. You, me, _now_."

Dean hurried to one side of the table, with Sam on the other. Dean rubbed his hands together, and Sam dropped the ball into play.

Dean gripped the handles firmly, then rotated one of the bars with the flick of his wrist, causing one of his players to hit the ball so quickly that it went straight into the goal.

Dean threw his hands into the air, hooting. "Take _that!"_ He slid his _1_ and _2_ numbers towards himself to change his score from _0_ to _2_.

"Shoudn't it only be one point?" Sam said.

"Dude, I scored in one shot. That means I get _two_ points."

"Okay, fine." Sam retrieved the ball and started the next round. Dean tried to make the same move, but Sam hit the ball back with his own man. Dean was able to send the ball back Sam's way, but then Sam scored with a rebound.

They continued to play for a few more minutes until Dean won, _10-9_.

"HA!" Dean threw his hands into the air once more. "You know you wanna kiss my ass, Sammy."

~( )~

The next day, Sam and Dean enjoyed another morning in the ocean before trying out the restaurant in their hotel for lunch. Sam ordered a salad and some chicken alfredo while Dean chose a t-bone steak grilled to medium, along with french fries and an appetizer of onion rings.

"There you go with your rabbit food again," Dean said. "You don't know how to appreciate the meats that make you American. And you're in America, Sammy."

"You do realize that the term 'America' applies to two continents, not a country," Sam said.

Dean thought for a moment, his eyes squinting. "Well, even so, you're still in America. And who the hell cares about geography?"

Sam rolled his eyes, and they decided to drop the subject...for now. He flipped through a pamphlet, looking for today's entertainment.

Dean's eyes landed on an ad in the top right corner. "Mmff," he said, pointing at it. His mouth was stuffed full of fries.

Sam looked where Dean was pointing. "No."

Dean finally swallowed with a frown. What was the ad for? A strip club.

Sam discarded the pamphlet and found a newspaper rack. His eyes landed on an article.

 _Woman Found Dead in Bedroom_

 _Barbara Hastings, 31, was found dead in her bedroom yesterday. The best explanation, based on her injuries, is an animal attack. Her chest was ripped open..._

Sam held up the newspaper to Dean. "Werewolf? I mean, animal attacks in bedrooms at the beach?"

Dean groaned. "Of course there's a case. Can't have a damn vacation without having to kill something."

They finished eating before finding their fake badges and heading to the location of the attack. Oddly enough, the address was to a building at the beach's boardwalk.

"Who would want to live on the boardwalk?" Dean asked as they walked down it. A group of teenage girls passed him, giggling. A child bumped into him, running away from his mother. Dean gritted his teeth behind closed lips, then continued to speak. "I didn't know they were allowed to do that-" His eyes finally landed on their destination. "Are you kidding me? A damn haunted house?"

It was in the corner of the boardwalk, with fake trees surrounding it, looming over passersby.

"Indeed!" said a man's voice.

Sam and Dean turned around quickly.  
The man was a foot shorter than Dean, wearing a long trenchcoat and a black hat. He had a scraggly beard and large round spectacles.

"Help us investigate the horrors of this mystery!" he said, throwing his hands in front of him for effect. "But be careful! The killer is still in the house!"

Dean rolled his eyes, and Sam forced a smile, trying to be polite.

"Come!" He placed a hand on Dean's back, ushering him towards the haunted house.

"I don't want to go to your damn haunted house!" Dean shouted, shoving the man away. Sam took this moment to apoligize to the man for Dean's rudeness.

"Tickets are half-price today," the man said. "And with your purchase of two or more tickets, you get a free 75% off coupon to Patty's Pie Buffet down the street."

Dean's eyes widened, and he began marching to the haunted house. Sam hurried after him.

"Dude!" Sam called, finally reaching him. "So what, now you're in?"

"For pie? Hell yes." He reached the door, catching a glimpse of the hallway inside. Spiderwebs hung from the ceiling. "Just because I buy tickets doesn't mean I have to use them." He purchased two tickets, and after he had them in his hands, he waited patiently for his coupon.

"Oh, you get the coupon after you make it through the house," the man said. "Barbara Hastings keeps them in her den."

"I bought the damn tickets; I deserve my coupon."

"Do not curse here!" the man said with wide eyes. "It makes them unhappy!"

"What? Who?" Dean looked at the man, confused.

The man leaned forward and said with a whisper, "The ghosts that are inside. They hide in the walls, and they have killed everyone who has gone inside."

Dean rolled his eyes at the man's cheesy acting. He turned around to leave, but instead heard a click as he accidentally stepped through a turnstile.

He tried to go back the other way, but he couldn't. He lifted his leg up over it, but Sam stopped him.

"Dude, it's not that bad. Let's just go through. Maybe we'll get a good laugh."

Dean groaned, and Sam joined him on the other side of the turnstile.

As they went through the haunted house, they debunked the silly tricks that were used to try to scare people who walked through. They also made fun of all the things that were wrong about the supernatural.

When they first entered the building, they were in a living room. It looked normal. They followed the barricade tape into a hallway, when the lights suddenly switched off.

Motion sensor, obviously.

They squinted in the low light, seeing a few pictures on the walls as they walked. They were photographs of creepy dolls.

Suddenly, a woman dressed in rags with makeup streaking her face jumped in front of them, screaming.

Dean reached for his gun by instinct. He eventually dropped his hands back to his sides, silently reminding himself that there was nothing here to shoot.

Though, he really did want to shoot the ticket man.

The woman walked away, whispering things like "you're mine" and "we will kill you all".

Sam laughed.

They reached the bedroom, where they found a dummy lying on the floor with fake blood all over her chest. It wasn't even ripped out like the newspaper said; it was just painted on there.

The trail of blood (a.k.a. red paint) led to her bathroom, from which another "ghost" ran from, then climbed out of the window, mumbling incorrect Latin.

"Is that supposed to be Latin?" Sam asked.

"I think she said 'I eat poop for breakfast,'" Dean translated.

Sam's face wrinkled in disgust as Dean chuckled.

They reached another hallway when they heard more screaming. Dean's hands balled up into fists. Two more "ghosts" walked up to them, one in front, and one behind. Their positions forced Sam and Dean to open the door on the right, which was the pantry.

Ten dummies were sprawled onto the floor, streaked with red paint. Sam and Dean stepped over them and reached the kitchen, finding made-up symbols drawn all over the counters.

Styrofoam kitchen knives dangled from the ceiling, some of them covered in red paint. Piano music started playing.

They followed the music, finding yet another ghost playing the piano. Really though, she wasn't even touching the keys. Speakers were hidden under her chair.

Sam and Dean passed the fireplace, which had a fog machine inside it, spitting it out unevenly.

As they exited the den, Dean found found a ghost holding Dean's much-anticipated coupon.

Dean accepted it and marched back into the sunlight, throwing his middle finger above his head.

They headed back to the Impala.

"Dude, that _sucked._ Why do people like that?" said Dean.

"Because they are fortunate enough to think that ghosts aren't real, only something for their entertainment."

"That sounds kinky."

Sam's brow furrowed as he looked at his brother. He just shrugged and allowed Dean to drive them to Patty's Pie Buffet.

~( )~

Sam yawned, sitting up in bed the next morning. He looked over at his brother's bed, which was empty.

He sighed.

Sam found a protein bar he'd put in the cabinet. As he was eating it, he looked out the peephole and into the hotel hallway.

Dean was standing there, leaning against the wall, his hair a mess. His shirt was wrinkled, possibly on backwards, and he had forgotten to zip his jeans. The woman they'd passed in the hallway before now stood in front of him. He had a look of pleasure on his face.

She was wearing a very cleavage-friendly crop top and booty shorts. Her hair was messed up as well.

Dean leaned forward for a kiss.

At first, Sam thought he was kissing her goodbye, but Dean was very seductive with her, more than usual.

Oh. _Oh._

He was looking for a Round 2.

Sam backed away from the door, turning around.

He stood there, slowly and awkwardly finishing his protein bar as he heard the neighboring door shut behind Dean and the woman.

~( )~

Sam took this as an opportunity to do something on his own. He was flipping through more activities he could do, but he considered just going back down to the ocean.

Dean's voice echoed in his head as he recalled what he'd said last night.

"This is the beach. We are here to have fun, to not look back. Unless, of course, what's behind you is very, very nice..." At that point, he'd turned around to face the woman, and then he'd allowed her to pull him away.

Sam stood to his feet, deciding to forfeit his dignity, but just this once.

He headed to the bar to find the woman he'd had eyes on ever since Dean ordered a piña colada.

She was there, like always, even though the bar wasn't even open. Sam approached her with a smile, before he too was following a woman to her hotel room.

Once the door shut, he placed his lips on hers, and they sunk deeply into the kiss until they were tangled up under the sheets.

~( )~

Sam made it back to their own hotel room before Dean did, so Dean never knew he'd left. Sam was sitting on the balcony reading a book.

Dean made his way into the hotel room with a grin plastered across his face. He found his brother on the balcony.

"Dude, did you read all morning or something?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sam replied casually.

"Nerd," Dean said. He looked at the beach in front of them. "I don't want to leave."

Today was their last day.

After lunch, they went down to the beach again. As they walked through the sand, Dean smiled at a thought in his head.

"Hey, Sammy."

"What?"

"Go lie down in the sand."

 _"What?"_

"Do it."

"No."

Dean stopped walking.

"Why?" asked Sam.

"You know how they cover people in sand so that you can only see their head?"

 _"No._ I am _not_ doing that."

"Why not?"

"It's ridiculous!"

"Come on, Sammy."

"Look, if you want to do it with yourself, go ahead. But _I'm_ not doing it."

 _"I'm_ not doing it," said Dean. "Me trapped under a foot of sand? No thank you."

"My point. Plus that's really weird," Sam said.

"No, that's not weird. You not wanting to get laid this week, _that's_ weird."

"No it's not."

"Whatever," said Dean, walking again. "Virgn," he mumbled under his breath.

~( )~

The next morning, Sam and Dean loaded Baby with the little luggage they had. They said their silent farewells to the glistening waters, then climbed inside. Dean started the car, picked out a cassette tape, and cranked up the volume.

Led Zeppelin began to play through the speakers.

Sam and Dean made eye contact, and Dean turned the wheel.

"Until next time," he said.


End file.
